


Cipher

by Xanthiae (Casstea)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-23
Updated: 2010-11-23
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4789229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casstea/pseuds/Xanthiae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You took your time John,” the figure on the bench said, turning to the soldier with a cheeky grin on his face.</p><p>“You know how it is Sherlock,” John replied, slowly lowering himself onto the bench next to the other man, “my balance isn’t as it once was. Icy paths are treacherous.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cipher

**Author's Note:**

> First posted in 2010 under a title I cannot remember.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, this is written for fun and not for profit.

His breath frosts in front of his face every time he breathes out, watching as the white mist that floats away on the gentle winter breeze. His old hand clutch at the cane beside him, the cane he has to place more and more weight on as the years go by. Knarred knuckles go white from his grip, the sheer effort of standing upright takes its toll on him.

He forces himself to stand upright and tall, he is a soldier after all.

He takes small steps, shuffling along the icy path to try and keep his grip. He remembers at time when he could run, run about London chasing criminal after criminal. He remembers the excitement he had in his youth, excitement that he still tries to hold onto even in old age.

His eyes are set determinedly on a bench that lies a few hundred meters along the path. He knows the bench well, every day forcing himself to come out and sit on it, come rain or shine. He can see another figure sitting on the bench already, curly grey hair surrounding the man’s face. Age may have taken its time on the man’s skin, causing it to wrinkle and fold, but the man knew where to look, for he had looked upon this very face for many years. Underneath the wrinkled skin the man can see the prominent cheekbones and intelligent eyes of the figure on the bench.

The man shuffled closer, drawing his coat around him to try and fight off the cold winter air. His hat was jammed on top of his head in an attempt to keep warm.

“You took your time John,” the figure on the bench said, turning to the soldier with a cheeky grin on his face.

“You know how it is Sherlock,” John replied, slowly lowering himself onto the bench next to the other man, “my balance isn’t as it once was. Icy paths are treacherous.”

“I was thinking I should have brought Yorick you took so long,” Sherlock commented, smirking at his friend. Sherlock wore his customary black trench coat, with its collar pulled upwards against the biting cold air.

“Seen anything interesting?” John asked. The reason he and Sherlock had picked this particular bench was that it gave Sherlock a wide view of the park in front of them. The wider the view, the more people he could make deductions about. It had seemed to John that as Sherlock had gotten older, his mind had only become more and more clever.

“A woman passed by earlier on,” Sherlock said, tucking his hands in his pockets to keep them warm, “nothing unusual. Although the person she was speaking on the phone to sounded like a distant relative, probably living somewhere abroad from the way this woman kept commenting how jealous she was of the hot weather ‘over there’.”

John smiled to himself, as he took out a small piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Sherlock. On it was a small pencilled message, obviously a code.

“Jane made another one,” John said as he handed over the paper. Jane was his niece, adopted by Harry and her new partner in an act of extreme responsibility that almost had Sherlock shocked. However, much to Sherlock’s delight, Jane wanted to become a cryptographer, and enjoyed making up codes for Sherlock to solve. Sherlock being Sherlock was not one to back down from a challenge.

Sherlock took out a small notebook from his pocket, as well as a pencil, flipping it open with his long fingers. Looking intently at the piece of paper, he re-wrote the code out again on the top of the page.

 

_02101361501820211451201501225004100022091438090040150501914200080102250002501900315405019_

 

            John didn’t say anything, not wanting to disturb Sherlock in his thinking. The other man twirled his pen happily in his fingers as his eyes darted across the code looking for clues.

            “Double zero,” Sherlock said, circling the instances where two zeros were next to each other.

            “What do you mean?” John asked. However, Sherlock did not reply, as he tapped the seemingly random zeros that were littered through the code. Taking his pen to the paper again, he took out all the zeros in the code, to get another list of numbers:

 

_2113615182211451251241229143894155191428122525193154519_

 

            Looking at the page again, Sherlock shook his head, and re-wrote the code again underneath, this time placing spaces within the numbers. John watched on, amazed as usual. Even after spending so much time with the man, he could not fail but to be amazed at Sherlock’s ability at solving puzzles.

 

_21136151822114512151225  41 22914389  415519142  81225  2519  3154519_

            “Substitution cipher,” Sherlock grinned, as he quickly scribbled out the alphabet on the top of his page, and then numbering each letter accordingly. When he was finished, he peered at the message again, before substituting in letters for each number.

 

 _B A A C F A E A H B B A A D_  –

 

            Sherlock shook his head, crossing out the letters again, before beginning again, this time peering for pairs of numbers that indicated letters at the end of the alphabet.

 

_U N F O R B V N E A B E L Y  D A V I N C H I  D O E S N B  H A V E  L E S  C O D E S_

            “What is it?” John asked.

            “I’m an idiot,” Sherlock muttered.

            “Can we put that on record?” John asked. It wasn’t often Sherlock called himself an idiot.

            “No,” Sherlock replied, looking at John and giving him a smile, “I have a reputation to uphold you know.”

            Sherlock looked back down at the code, replacing the letter “ _B_ ” with the letter “ _T_ ”.

            “I took out some of the zeros that meant _20_ not ‘2’ and ‘0’,” Sherlock explained to John as he re-wrote the message out again:

 

_Unfortunately Da Vinchi doesn’t have les codes._

“She’s still arguing this one, although her spelling is appalling” Sherlock muttered, whilst John shook his head. Last Christmas, Jane and Sherlock had a heated discussion about the book _The Da Vinci Code_ , Jane arguing that there would never be such a code, as it was technically a puzzle rather than an actual _code_. Sherlock, on the other hand, had disagreed, and quite rightly too John believed. After all, Sherlock had spent most of his life running about London following trails and solving the puzzles laid down for him by criminals.

            “Something isn’t right though,” Sherlock mused, as he wrote the original code out again, this time replacing every double zero with a space.

_02101361501820211451201501225 41 02209143809 4015050191420 8010225 025019 315405019_

            “The zeros in the message mean something don’t they?” John asked, digging his hands deeper into his pockets to keep them warm. Sherlock was alright, he had gloves on.

            “Correct deduction there John,” Sherlock, said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

            Sherlock peered at the numbers, then at the decoded message above them. John could see his mind was working furiously, substituting various numbers and letters into different places in order to work out the code.

            “Got it,” Sherlock said with a smug smile, scribbling out certain letters of the de-coded sentence.

 

_U N R L V I I O E S A V L S E_

            “The numbers are in pairs,” Sherlock explained to John, tapping his pen on the page, “ _‘021’_ means that the letter _‘21’ – ‘U’_ is capitalised.” John nodded in agreement, not totally understanding, but then he didn’t really need to fully understand. Working and living with Sherlock for so long had taught John not to always question Sherlock’s flying leaps in logic. Yes, he would question Sherlock’s actions at times, keeping his morality in check with the rest of the world, but he wouldn’t question _why something leads to something else_.

            Sherlock, meanwhile, continued to stare at the letters, before smirking and writing another sentence in his book.

 

 _Love is Universal_.

 

            “Do you think she’s onto us?” Sherlock glanced at John, who smiled back at him.

            “She has you as an Uncle,” John replied, taking Sherlock’s hand within his own, “it’s unlikely she hasn’t picked up _anything_ about making deductions.”

            The two of them sat on the bench for a while longer, watching the world go by. To anyone else, it would seem like two ordinary men were sitting on the bench. To those who knew, however, they would see Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson, the friends who had stood the test of time.

            And to those who looked a little closer, and could see Sherlock’s fingers interwoven between John’s; they would be able to deduce that there was a bond that tied the two deeper than friendship.

            Love.

 


End file.
